


Rojo

by moonkiddd



Category: Football - Fandom, Soccer - Fandom, World Cup 2018 - Fandom, argentina - Fandom, world cup - Fandom
Genre: Argentina, Argentina NT - Freeform, Cheating, F/M, FIFA World Cup 2018, Fanfic, Football, Forbidden Love, One Shot, Slight Smut, Soccer, World Cup, imagine, leonel messi, marcos rojo - Freeform, metaphorical smut, paulo dybala - Freeform, sergio aguero - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkiddd/pseuds/moonkiddd





	Rojo

His footsteps echoed through the white shiny floor of the hotel lobby. He had his face hidden underneath a cap, his hoodie over it to shadow his eyes as well. He noticed the receptionist typing something on her computer, her full attention on it instead of the group of anxious tourists taking photos of every little thing around. 

“Im looking for someone who’s staying here under the name Ana J” he said, gaining the attention of the receptionist “Name?” She asked, looking at the screen. “Axel”. 

She typed in again and checked on a list, and looked back up at him “Room 814, eighth floor” she replied, signaling the elevator. “Thank you”. 

He could feel his breathing getting longer while he stood on the elevator. Five, six. The numbers changed, his feet shifted, his hands were a bit sweaty on his black jean’s pockets. The anxiety from the match wasn’t wearing off, and it felt like getting worse when the elevator came to a stop, noticing the number 8 in red ink over marmol as the doors opened. 

Even if he felt like he was going to pass out as he got closer to the door, his mind felt numb. He was definitely walking blind towards the dark wooden door. As soon as he stopped, he heard noise coming from the inside, taking his cap and hoodie off quickly to fix his hair and dry his hands on his sweatshirt. 

Knock  
Knock  
Knock

It took less than a minute for the door to open up, showing a short redhead, barefoot, with the team’s jersey and a pair of black denim shorts looking up at him with surprised, but tired eyes. He stared at her, his mouth falling open, but nothing coming out of it. 

She moved to the side, letting him come inside without any of them saying a word. He walked slowly inside, his eyes wandering to the clothes laying on the mattress, the TV on but on mute, while her Exxus came out of her speaker. Her favorite song. The moon shone through the window, the dim lights only shining on the back wall. 

He heard the door close, and turned around to find her walking towards him slowly. The tension was so high, they felt like the other could hear their heartbeats rushing inside their chests. 

She knew he shouldn't be there but... she wasn’t one to kick him out like that. So she let him walk towards her, throwing his cap on the floor, until he was just a few centimeters away from her, his tall body towering over hers. He then caught her chest heaving up and down, her lips looking for words to say without success, her eyes quickly scanning his face, and his heart swelled up on his own chest.

Marcos also knew his wife was on her way to Kiestov, where they would have their match against France on that weekend, but they were staying one more day so they could rest before the plane ride. But when he saw Ana’s face, his mind drifted away, forgetting about Eugenia. 

“I thought of you” he said, breaking the silence. She just looked at him with quizzed eyes, wondering what he meant with that. “When we were losing, we were about to get eliminated from the World Cup. I wasn’t meant to be in that position, but I was there, and… I could’ve been thinking about my mother, my wife, my brothers and sisters, hell about my teammates… but I thought of you instead. And the ball went in… and we were winning, and I was thinking about you, about those old memories we made together and I think it gave me the strength I needed to kick that ball and make the goal” he explained, and she smiled, her head falling down, blush coming up her cheeks. 

So he took her face between his palms, lifting it up, and looked at her eyes, the adrenaline from the game wasn’t wearing off as it should, since it pushed him towards his goal again, closing the space between them to kiss her. Their eyes closed, letting themselves into it, into the warmth of each other’s bodies, her arms wrapping around his waist as he caught her lower lip between his. They both missed the feeling of their kisses, the taste of gum on Marcos’s tongue, the raw feeling of Ana’s hands, her fingertips calloused by the turpentine she uses to clean her brushes after finishing her paintings. 

The need to hold her and to be as close as her as posible was so strong, his body curved into hers, making her back bend a little, his arms crossed behind her lower back to lift her in them. They mouths never left each other’s while her legs clasped around his waist, and walked towards the table that was in front of the bed. The heat building between them was unbearable, making Marcos break the kiss to pull his shirt off, throwing it somewhere around the room. Her eyes travelled down his chest tattoos down to his stomach, to find the scar. 

He got it when he had to get surgery from appendicitis, that one time they were on a secret holidays together in Galápagos. They were having breakfast, sharing a kiss full of the cream cheese he decided to throw on her face before pressing his lips against her, when a sharp pain came through his stomach. It seems silly to remember a moment of pain but it was something that made them both kind of realize the love for each other. Marcos woke up after surgery, groggily, still under the effect of anesthesia, mumbling something Ana couldn’t understand. He was talking about you right before he went under, and woke up for post surgery check asking for you over and over. My guess is, he’s truly in love with you, ma’am. That’s what the doctor said when Marcos fell asleep again, making Ana smile uncontrollably. 

They spent the rest of the night discovering each other’s bodies again, forgetting about everything that was happening around, the world cup, Marcos’s wife, Ana’s boyfriend, her job, the next match Argentina has against France, none of that mattered at that moment.

 

She could feel Marcos’s anxiety on his rough hands, on the intensity of his eyes on hers, when he grabbed her by her waist his hands clasped so tight, she knew they would leave some kind of mark or bruise on. He needed the roughness, he needed to bite her lips, to earn her whimpers, to hear her cry his name, over and over again. The anxiety from the game was going to only wear off when he hits a high and comes back from it. 

It’s not that Marcos was using her, they were both on forbidden ground and they enjoyed it, but there was love, there was pain, there was intensity on skyrocket levels. The secrecy of the relationship gave them both a thrill that they needed, but mostly him on that night. 

Marcos had Ana below him, and sat up in the exact moment the moonlight hit her abdomen, showing the drops of sweat running down her chest, the small bruises and hickeys he left were dark shadows dancing on the almost pale blue her body reflected, making his jaw drop. His eyes roamed up to find her looking at him, her mouth wide open, her eyes wild, her hair even wilder on the sheets before her. 

Ana did the same as him when she caught him staring at her. He had a mix of everything on his eyes, of pain, of adrenaline, of love and anxiety and roughness. His jaw was tightly clenched, a deep frown on his eyebrows, shadowing his eyes. His tattoos looked perfect on the side light the moon gave him. They looked like a shower of paint struck him by accident and stained his body perfectly, who were also decorated by the scratches she made on his chest, just a few here and there, some deeper than others. They both knew if anyone sees their hickeys or scratches, they would be in big trouble, but like mentioned before, at that moment, nothing mattered, nothing but their love. 

As soon as Marcos came, his eyes went blank, like every emotion he was having, totally poured out of him, and everything was so strong, a few tears escaped his eyes. He knew he didn’t have to pretend to be strong or anything in front of Ana, but he anyway tried to dry them off, not succeeding, though, before Ana’s hand caught his wrist, and stared at him with an understanding look. She moved herself to sit on his thighs, and hugged him. Her arms fell around his shoulders, engulfing him, while he buried his face on her hair. 

Those moments are what they both lived for, when they could be their most vulnerable persona without feeling judged. When he could cry and she could hold him, or vice versa. They held each other, sitting on the bed, when the moonlight was almost gone from the room and the darkness filled the bed. 

“I love you” came out as a whisper from Marcos, losing itself on her hair. Ana was scared of hearing that, being they were both on relationships, but she did feel it too. “You don’t have to say it…” he added, trying to alleviate any pression she could be feeling “But I know you do” he finalized, before holding her body gently to lay back down in the bed to get some sleep.


End file.
